Christmas has lost almost all meaning, though it does afford me the opportunity to spend time with the family. So I guess it means exactly what it's always meant. Besides, where else can you see a 52 year-old man sing along to War Pigs in a home filled with neighbors' family on Christmas?
*Video courtesy of my youngest sister, who's pretty timely in her ability to draw her camera phone.
In a fit of selflessness that hopefully will not be replicated, I bought my sister a ticket home from the jungles of Costa Rica for the holiday. I think her tales of savagery are greatly exaggerated because she's still just a big daisy. I'll likely eat crow in April when I go to visit her. It was good to have her home though. Her favorite present was a book about animal shit. Seriously. Complete with pictures and explanations. It's called "What Shat That?" It even rates the shit in terms of how messy it is on a scale of five terds, five being the messiest.
Some fun shit facts:
Rhino's routinely eat their own shit. Which is really amazing when you think about it.
Scientists still don't know why dogs eat shit, though there's an evolutionary explanation for their tendency to roll around in it: In order to make themselves smell more like their prey. Obviously this helped them hunt pre-domestication.
Chimpanzees don't throw their shit in the wild. Only in captivity.
As Moose and I were spending our first Christmas together, I figured I may as well propose. That's one hell of a segue. Having already asked her father's permission, I felt like I was capable of anything. Notoriously grumpy in the early morning, I knew I'd have to weather a storm of early morning cranky rage most guys would avoid in planning a proposal, in order to pop the question before my mother burst onto the scene singing Christmas carols, an act I literally was able to set my watch to. (Sometimes our apartment actually comes up on the National Weather Service's radar Monday through Friday between the hours of 6:30 and 7:30AM EST.)
When my cell phone alarm went off at 7:15, and I didn't turn it off, Moose violently spun over in bed, reaching for what she thought was my cell phone. She recommended, to put it lightly, that I "turn the fucking alarm off" as she threw her engagement ring at me. It bounced off my chest, landing between us on the bed. I turned the alarm off and picked it up, holding it out to her. As the fog receded, she became vaguely aware something was going on. The winds of wrath slowed until the air became still. She gently asked, without gesturing or moving anything but her lips, "What is that?"
I opened the box, bringing to light the ring inside, asking her, "Will you spend every Christmas with me?"
A warm embrace and an ever critical "yes" later, and my mom burst in through the door, right on cue, singing, "and so this is Christmas, and what have you done? Another year over, and a new one's just begun!"
Within a half hour our engagement was old news, as we found ourselves around the tree opening presents. The Sgt. got me this new thing Apple just started mass producing. It's called an iPod. It's pretty amazing if I do say so. You can actually buy and/or steal music off of the internet, copy it from CD's, storing it and listening to it on this little thing roughly the size of a half deck of cards. Keep your eyes out for these things. I have a feeling this might take off.
Alright. I'm going to bed. I leave tomorrow after work to go to Jersey to watch the Giants ruin the Patriots' perfect season.
No comments:
Post a Comment